Read Regency Masquerade for Free Online Page B

Frances found she was looking forward to the evening and
thought she could very easily grow accustomed to this way of life.  The money
she had won today would allow her to stay comfortably at the Pelican for some
time longer. It was all very well, she chastised herself, but should be
attending more seriously to her future.  What would she do if Lady Murray could
not be found, or more likely, refused to have anything to do with her?  Peter
Francis could hardly live at the Pelican indefinitely.  Perhaps I could set up
my own pistol gallery she joked, tucking in to a large plate of roast beef and
potatoes.
    She
took extra pains with her dress that evening, putting on her best cream
pantaloons and dark blue coat.  Shiny black boots completed her ensemble and
she brushed her hair carefully into the fashionable Brutus style.  She stared
at herself in the small mirror.  A pretty enough boy b’Gad, perhaps she would
not put Carleton quite to shame.  She collected her gloves and cane and took a
hackney to the theatre.  There was a great crowd milling around out the front
and it took her some minutes to locate Carleton, standing against the wall in
his black evening dress.
    “Evening
my Lord,” she greeted him, pushing through the crowd.  “What are we seeing
tonight?”
    “Ah
there you are.  It’s by Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro.”
    “Wonderful,
I saw that performed in Salzburg several years ago,” she enthused.
    They
went in and found seats in front of the private boxes, along with the more
wealthy tradespeople and gentlemen with less than respectable female
companions.  Unattached young bucks sauntered back and forth eyeing the
audience until the opera started and they could ogle the dancers.   Carleton
gazed at them with resignation, “One of these days everyone will be made to
keep quiet and listen to the singing,” he joked.  Despite the constant chatter
around them Frances enjoyed the first act immensely.  The Countess was
particularly good though the Count could have been a bit stronger.
    At
interval Carleton announced that he was going to stretch his legs and Frances
accompanied him wondering if they would ever find their seats again.  From up
in the second row of boxes, a man glanced idly down.  He had sleek dark hair,
olive skin and a certain feline grace which defeated his attempts to look
English.  He caught sight of the pair below and froze into immobility.  His
companion looked curiously at him.  “Anything the matter Comte?”
    With
a start the other man recollected himself, “Nothing.  I just ... thought I saw
someone I knew.”
    “A
friend of yours?”
    “No,”
the Comte realised he had been more adamant than he wanted and smiled without
humour, “Can you tell me the name of the man in black?  And his companion?”
    “Who..?
Oh I see. That’s Lord Carleton in the black but I don’t know the name of the
boy with him – a nephew perhaps?”
    “Oh
well it is of no consequence,” the Comte dismissed the matter with a flick of
his fingers and settled back in his chair.  “Can you tell me the name of that
delightful young lady over there?”  He changed the subject smoothly and his
companion was happy to oblige finding it much more interesting.  He hadn’t
liked the look in the Comte’s eyes a few moments ago and he half thought he
might drop Carleton a word of warning.
    Meanwhile
Carleton was saying casually to Frances, “There is a young lady I wish to pay
my respects to, do you care to accompany me?”
    She
nodded and followed him up the stairs and along the corridors full of
chattering patrons to whom this was the prime purpose of the evening, and
eventually to the curtained entrance of the box he sought.  She paused outside
a moment to ascertain that Sammy Fairfax was not inside, then entered
discreetly on seeing that the party was made up of strangers apart from Rosamond
Lyle and her friend from the ball.
    She
was secretly amused by the appraising look Rosamond